not with haste
by tennderristhennightt
Summary: another one-shot type thingy, written in 3 chapters. inspired by the song 'not with haste' by mumford & sons. please forgive my shoddy writing, criticism is always and forever welcome. :)
1. the ending

The quiet, stony statue stood silently, casting a shadow over the grass and flowers where Lucia stood. The Darkness was defeated, burned out by the goodness and the sacrifice of Walter. And now he was stood, staring gloomily out across the wide blue sea. A sigh escaped Lucia's lips, a solitary tear rolling down her cheek. In the distance, she could see Kalin's ship sailing away, the great billowing sails floating like ghosts in the wind. Cries could be heard in the streets of Bowerstone, celebrations for the living and mourning for the lost. Virtually no deaths, Hobson had informed Lucia. Yet soldiers had still valiantly fought, and had fallen with the city. Page had left to help rebuild the lives of civilians, with Kidd in tow. Sabine and Boulder hd returned to the Dwellers in Mistpeak, gleefully reminding the Hero that they'd be waiting for the next fight. Logan had disappeared, muttering only of 'travels' and 'apologies to be made'. Lucia had simply let him go, kissing him upon the cheek and sending him with her blessing. And Ben?

Avo only knew where Ben had gone. He had left just moments after Walter's funeral, with no goodbye or letter or sentimental saying. Lucia was left alone in the coldness of day, her breath visible against the skyline of Industrial. It was often said to her that the kindest were the loneliest.

Footsteps soon sounded from behind her, coming from the castle. Her tears were quickly brushed away, in fear of whatever maid was disturbing her. But a surprising, familiar voice greeted her instead.

'Lucy.'

The word echoed around the empty gardens, causing Lucia to stir and jump up from the bench where she sat. Her mouth parted slightly upon seeing the man casually leaning against a pillar of the catacombs.

Ben.  
He was still dressed in his usual military uniform, the same blood stain adorning the white shirt like a cluster of poppies. His hair still flopped messily upon his forehead, his pale eyes twinkling from beneath the golden blonde. His weapons had been laid beside his feet, leaving him empty handed as he walked slowly towards the Queen.  
'Here we are again, Hero.' He grinned cockily, raising a hand to gently grasp Lucia's chin and close her mouth. He left his hand there, sighing with some content and exasperation.

'Still as gorgeous as the day we met.' He murmured huskily, gazing at her face. Lucia blushed a deep scarlet.  
'Where did you go, Ben?' Her voice was barely audible in the cold Spring air. 'Why did you leave?' Ben sighed again, trudging slowly to sit down on the cool, stone bench, lowering Lucia beside him. He tenderly took her hand in his and squeezed, before hesistantly opening his mouth to speak.

'I said before, Luce, I'll say it a million times... I'm not cut out to be a General, we both know that. I know it too damn well. I left because I didn't know what was going to happen. Everything was over, and- well, it scared me. More than anything. I needed something. 5 minutes on the road to Millfields, and I was so ready, I needed this - Travelling, the world and such...' He ran his free hand through and hair, and continued. 'I couldn't. I couldn't leave. Needing something and thinking it was the world was ridiculous, because- Well, you are my world, Luce.' Lucia blushed, frozen against his body is some state of pure bliss. Ben pulled her closer, grasping her hair between his fingers and pressing his head to hers. She squeezed her eyes shut, savouring his musky scent. He leaned forward and planted a small, sweet kiss upon her lips, drawing himself back and pressing against her forehead again. Opening her eyes, she saw a future in his eyes, a fraudulent life that would never be.

Ben would suddenly appear to her on one knee, pulling out a small ring, asking the question and waiting with bated breath for an answer. Lucy would nod, of course, and allow herself to be swept into his strong arms, allow herself to be taken away by the oceans in his eyes and the breeze of his breath upon her skin.

Doors would open, and Ben would wait, wringing his hands as Lucy glides across the floor like a ghost, the white veil draped over her blushing cheeks. Empty spaces beside each partner, no best man, no father of the bride. But familiar faces are still there, Page, Sabine, Kalin... Happiness echoes in the throne room, and outside, the crowds cheer for the coronation of the new King of Albion.

Before long, Lucy would blossom, growing and glowing as only a mother can. The tiny patter of feet sound around the castle, as new children with the same pale blue eyes run with carefree abandon. Years pass, but nothing changes, not even in death. The story of the Queen and the Soldier carries on through centuries.

'Ben, that isn't us.'  
Lucy's soft voice broke the intimate silence, as she pulled her head away, turning her eyes to the city.  
'We aren't THAT couple, Ben, that's not us. That's not what we want. That's not what I want. It's what the Kingdom wants. And I've done enough for Albion.' Ben bit his lower lip, turning to face the city whilst keeping the same grasp on her hand. Lucy saw his head nodding, understanding what had to happen. He ran his free hand through his hair again, exasperated.

'I know, Luce, but please - this is us. We both knew, we both know now, this is us. We need each other. I can't live my life without you. And I know you can't live without me, either.' Ben sighed, and pulled her head to his, tenderly kissing the top of her hair. 'This is your choice, I know, Luce. But I love you. I always have, and I always will.'

The murmur sent shivers to her spine, but still, she stayed silent. Lucy lowered her head, cradling herself in his stubbled neck, her eyes glinting in the Spring sunshine. Moments passed, before Ben cleared his throat and softly spoke.

'And what now then?' His husky voice woke her from a dream, and raising her head, she smiled.

'We have to be us, Ben.'


	2. a letter

Hobson huffed, crumpling the note into a tiny ball of rage, his round face turning a distinctive shade of scarlet. He walked away from the map room, muttering about 'discipline', as nobles turned in amusement to where he waddled. A maid stepped forward quickly, picking the creased note from the floor.

_A letter to Hobson,_  
_I have received disturbing news of a rather bothersome problem plaguing the inhabitants of Mourningwood. I have decided to investigate and hopefully prevent the problem from happening again, Should a dilemma of crown of city matters arise in my absence, I should be informed by letter._  
_With great thanks,_  
_Lucia Rosalie, the Queen of Albion_


	3. not for anything

'FIRE HER UP, JAMMY!'

Ben's feet pounded against the soggy floor, the Fort almost within his reach. Hollow men rose again and again from the ground, wielding swords and cleavers and armour. Shots rang out in the crisp air, as Ben dived through the windows of the decaying barricade. Jammy's ghostly blue form appeared at the top of the crumbling stairs.

'Up here then, Captain, she's all loaded and ready.' He sniffled a little, before beckoning a bandaged hand hurriedly. Ben grabbed his pistol from the mud and ran up to the mortar, glancing over the broken walls to where Lucy was sprinting, resting her rifle upon her shoulder, and shooting down each undead that reached for her. A small smile adorned Ben's face like a tattoo, burning brightly in the damp air. Jammy cocked his head to the side, sniffing again and grinning at the Captain.

'I trust things are all okay then, Benny,' Jammy leant a glowing arm against the great metal mortar, using a free hand to wipe his nose. 'No wedding bells in the air yet, eh?' Ben chuckled, watching as Lucy dived into the fort, still shooting at the rising skeletons.

'We're just being us, Jammy,' Ben gazed wistfully at Lucy's sleek form running up the stairs. 'Just us.' Her small footsteps neared, and soon enough, her face appeared just inches from his. Sweat glistened lightly above her brow, her eyes twinkling excitement. The Soldier leaned down, pressing his lips slightly to her messy hair, cupping her cheek in his small hands.

'So then, Hero,' He quirked his lips into a cocky, lopsided smile. 'Would you trade this for anything else?' The Queen gave a small laugh, letting his stubbled neck cradle her as it did so many moments ago.

'Not for anything, Captain.'


End file.
